Two | voice post
--starting to figure this bally thing out. It's not too difficult, really, one just has to flip this--
--it back on? There's that little blinking light again. I suppose it--
--switch controls it. Aha! I think I've got it now. This turns--
--and that turns it on. Right. Sorry about that, er, I've got no idea how to erase anything on this machine.
Well, I suppose this island isn't so bad. I did find this quaint little teepee to sleep in, protection from the elements and all that-- and those seem to change rather quickly. The elements, I mean. Granted, the facilities aren't exactly the height of modern comfort, but one manages the best one can under the circs. A few pillows and blankets and the like off one of those strange trees and it could almost be the old homestead.
Except with only one room. And without furniture, or any of my things, or that terrifying painting of Corky's I haven't been able to shift-- not that I'm too bothered about missing that, you understand. Or someone to bring me restoring drinks. But I musn't think that way, for that way madness lies, I think the gag goes. Jeeves will find me, if this is real, and if it isn't he'll find a way to bring me round from whatever hallucination I'm in. I must keep telling myself that.
[pause]
So, on a completely different subject, is anyone in this mad land a tailor? Only I've got all this fabric I found growing in some shrubbery, of all the dashed silly places for fabric to put itself, and I could use some new clothes as these are pretty sea-worn.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I'll hit the proverbial h. It is far too late an hour for any sane man.
--it back on? There's that little blinking light again. I suppose it--
--switch controls it. Aha! I think I've got it now. This turns--
--and that turns it on. Right. Sorry about that, er, I've got no idea how to erase anything on this machine.
Well, I suppose this island isn't so bad. I did find this quaint little teepee to sleep in, protection from the elements and all that-- and those seem to change rather quickly. The elements, I mean. Granted, the facilities aren't exactly the height of modern comfort, but one manages the best one can under the circs. A few pillows and blankets and the like off one of those strange trees and it could almost be the old homestead.
Except with only one room. And without furniture, or any of my things, or that terrifying painting of Corky's I haven't been able to shift-- not that I'm too bothered about missing that, you understand. Or someone to bring me restoring drinks. But I musn't think that way, for that way madness lies, I think the gag goes. Jeeves will find me, if this is real, and if it isn't he'll find a way to bring me round from whatever hallucination I'm in. I must keep telling myself that.
[pause]
So, on a completely different subject, is anyone in this mad land a tailor? Only I've got all this fabric I found growing in some shrubbery, of all the dashed silly places for fabric to put itself, and I could use some new clothes as these are pretty sea-worn.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I'll hit the proverbial h. It is far too late an hour for any sane man.